The 77th Hunger Games
by Willowfeather
Summary: This story takes place as if Katniss/Peeta/Prim had never been chosen. POV of one of my characters who is District 5 - Livestock  Rated T for Language


**A/N: Hello! I'd love it if you would Review! 3**

**(My first ever story on FanFiction!)**

**Disclaimer - I don't own the Hunger Games! Suzanne Collins does!**

**All characters are mine though, please don't steal!  
**

Cold light filters in as I pull myself upright into a sitting position, eyes narrowing through the darkness as I adjust to the low light.

"Samm?"

I sink down into my bed, relief washing over me. But almost as quickly as the relief takes hold, horror washes though me.

Today is the day of the reaping.

I move the sheets out of the way, motioning with one hand for Rena to come join me. "Whats up Rena?" I yawn rubbing hands over my face to wipe the sleep out of my eyes.

She doesn't say anything as she snuggles up close to me, her eyes wide as her creative imagination runs riot. I pat her hair down, running my fingers through her long blond hair. "It'll be okay Rae. I promise."

Of course my promises don't mean much. She knows that, but lets my words comfort her.

"Get some more sleep, the reaping isn't until noon." I kiss her forehead and wipe a strand of hair from her green eyed face.

She nods. From the circles under her eyes I doubt she's had any sleep tonight, with most likely nightmares.

I pull my brown hiking boots over my pants, stuffing them with towels since my socks still weren't dry. Most of the people in my District would have more then one pair of socks, even the poorest of us did.

Not my family.

Ever since my father left my mother for some stuck up Capitol chick, she's never been the same. All she does is sit in her bedroom stroking their wedding day picture. If I didn't force food into her, she would have died long ago.

District 5. Livestock. My home. Where you could raise the animals for food. . . and not get any of it.

My people are hardy, we aren't wimps like District 6 - Research, or District 8 - Clothing. We actually know what we are doing.

_I don't want to think about this. Although it's quite necessary for you to get your information. You'll just have to try and follow along, your that bright right?_

_Good._

I continued down the narrow dirt path, the dusty smell of penned horses and cows wafting though the air. I grab my bow an arrow. I'm better with a knife although if I told our Peacekeepers that, they'd have my hung out on Town Square.

To them, its okay if you can handle weapons that aren't too dangerous. Which is ridiculous because a knife and a bow and arrow are equally hazardous.

I have just enough time to shoot a duck or two before anyone notices them missing. I could take a chicken, but I don't have the proper tools. You should never kill a tame chicken with a bow an arrow. . . or a knife. You have to snaps its neck so it never knows what is coming.

So I settle the the duck, they are more skidish and don't like humans. So its fine if I shoot them. I quickly take down two before the rest of the flock realize what has happened and taken flight. I shoot another one from the air but it plummets into the ground far to my left. I won't have time to fetch it which is a pity since I can't waste food like that. Maybe one of the dogs will eat it and the bones before the farmers wake up.

I was right.

Before I can properly skin each duck I hear a families hoarse baying sound, then loud smacking sounds.

He needs to be more quite, what does he want to do? Bring the whole town over here?

Skin flecked with small holes, multiple teeth missing, and half of his tail missing, the old gray dog romps over to me, his mouth open and stained with blood.

_Crap._

I clean up the duck feathers, scattering them around and wiping up the blood so the others won't suspect their lives were ever taken.

"Get over here" I growl at the dog, my lips raised over my teeth.

He plods a couple of feet closer and kneels down, already know what I'm going to do. I clean his muzzle, splashing water in his face and mouth. He could get me in a lot of trouble for this. And I hate him for it, but he is an exceptionally great hunting partner.

We aren't aloud to be near the dogs. Dogs are now a dwindling species in Panem. They have been ever since the great war that ravaged the whole world, leaving only a portion of North America live able for the generations of people after it.

He lips his purple tongue over his lips again and takes off into the woods, hopefully into the pen where he should be.

On my way back home I bag two squirrels, a rabbit, and a mouse. Pity for the mouse, no one would buy it from me. But I guess it could make an okay soup. Before going home I head to the bakery.

Hunting is illegal, I could get whipped on a daily basis here. Or worse, but why think about that right now? Hunting is the only way I earn money, food, and other things like shoes for my family.

Most of the people in District 5 know I hunt, but every one here is hungry for fresh meat, not the stale left overs the Capital no longer wants.

I trade both squirrels for two loaves of bread and a small package of strawberries. I take my rabbit to the hardware store and trade it for two pairs of woolly socks and a new quiver of arrows. I give my mouse to a poor family who is rummaging though the garbage. They thank me,telling me how they will repay me when they can, although I know that won't happen.

I nod and smile, wishing them luck this reaping. "May the odds be ever in your favor" I mutter though my teeth as they take the mouse by the tail.

"As with you" a tall man murmurs back.

**Review please! 3  
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